Beyond the End
by FrequencyOnion
Summary: A life well-lived will always include losses, but John Shepard had never counted on losing his husband all those years ago. And he definitely hadn't counted on getting him back.
1. Chapter 1

Living alone in a house too big for one person wasn't the part that bothered John-it was the crushing silence. Gave him too much time to think, something he did enough of to begin with. And when his mind was tangled up in its thoughts, he paced. When his mind would get hung up on a particularly troublesome knot, he'd end up staring out a window, lost somewhere in his past.

The current knot was made of industrial-grade misery that refused to let go of his heart. He stared out the large picture window in front of him, golden sunshine spilling through and bathing him in light that still couldn't penetrate the empty darkness of his mind. _Yet another perfect summer day_, he thought bitterly. Rain or shine the world outside was just as empty to him as every room in the house was. He could check the all the rooms he wanted and wish on every star in the sky, but nothing would change; nothing would bring Kaidan back.

A single tear slid down his weathered cheek. He wiped it away and blinked back the rest. After all these years, it still surprised him that there were any tears left to shed. Staring across English Bay, he focused on the mountains in the distance, mentally counting their hazy peaks until that knot in his chest loosened its grip.

Married life had been amazing, and strangely suited them quite well. They had their ups and downs, but it was nothing he'd trade for the world. Between Kaidan's migraines and his own knee problems and faulty implants, they'd always joked about how they were like a pair of old men falling apart from a life well-lived. The battlefield had changed, but they still watched each other's back and tended to one another's ailments as they had in their younger days, bolstering them through even the worst of problems. Well, until the migraines became inexplicably stronger, the occasional seizure hot on the heels of those.

After the migralepsy diagnosis, life was... different... From the outside looking in, things probably seemed fine-and for the most part they were. It was just one more thing to deal with, but they'd manage, right? Drugs kept both issues in check well enough to maintain a sense of normalcy, but that lingering feeling of _What if?_ weighed heavily on John's mind.

He hadn't worried much about the minor seizures masked as daydreaming. It was unnerving to watch someone space out in the middle of what they were doing while their brain rebooted, but it could be worse. Could be like the times Kaidan collapsed and his body went into powerful spasms. "Tonic-clonics" the docs called them-what a silly, innocuous name for something that was anything but.

It was those severe ones that dredged up every last fear John had ever had. The seizures lasted no more than a minute or two, but every second seemed to tick by slower than the last. _What if it went too long? Was he being hurt? How would he feel when it was over? Would this one be "the one" they'd been warned about?_ They weren't irrational worries by any means, but he needed to keep a level head in those instances.

It was the more morbid questions that he lost sleep over. There had been a lot of uncomfortable discussions about fears, and then there was the planning, and all sorts of other legal matters that he hadn't even known needed taking care of. And he was surely too young to be picking out final resting places-he had only been in his early fifties then. Everything was eventually dealt with, but it was neither preparation nor consolation for the day a part of himself died.

John staggered over to the threadbare armchair in front of the window, lowering himself into it. He'd turned the chair around years ago so it would be easier to gaze out across the bay, watching the ships go about their business until the sun sank below the horizon. More often than not his eyes drifted to the finger of land jutting into the calm waters.

If one knew what they were looking for, they'd notice a little spot that wasn't as densely forested as the areas surrounding it. Beneath the limbs of those trees was a cemetery he'd spent more time in than he cared to admit, and tomorrow would be cause for yet another visit.

John twisted the scuffed gold band around his finger. Ten years ago tomorrow, he'd had to put his husband in the ground. Hard day to forget.

That entire summer had suffered from drought-like conditions, and that day had been just as dreadfully hot as those before it. There was no breeze to speak of and the humidity only added to the overall wretchedness of the day. Cicadas trilled loudly in the trees around them, singing the same melody they did every summer, oblivious to the procession of mourners winding their way through the narrow path of the cemetery. Around that tiny plot of land the air was heavy with the metallic tang of freshly-turned earth, the scorched grass crunching underfoot as they gathered around to say their goodbyes.

The ceremony had been nice enough-simple and quiet, just the way Kaidan would have wanted. John had stood rigidly in the same spot for what felt like hours, occasionally tugging at his sweat-soaked collar in the suffocating heat. Their close friends had huddled around him, hugging him and squeezing his shoulders in support, but he had been too numb to notice or care. By the time the last shovel-full of dirt was smoothed out, he didn't care who saw the tears streaming down his face. For all he had cared, his own heart may as well have been ripped from his chest and buried with his husband.

Despite the chilly air blasting from the air conditioner, a sudden flush of warmth bloomed across the back of John's neck. Like the soft breath of a lover long gone...

He leaned over and picked up the photo from the side table. The wayward photo had been plucked off the seat of the chair earlier in the day and set aside. He made a mental note to put it back in its rightful place later.

The photo was from their thirtieth anniversary-their last one. They had wanted to keep the milestone occasion low key, so they had invited their friends over for a backyard cookout. At some point during that evening, somebody had managed to snap a picture of the two of them with their heads together, sharing a joke only they could hear-a joke he wished he could remember right now. At first glance, it was a beautifully spontaneous moment he was glad to have record of. But the longer he looked at it, the more he recognized the signs of what the future would bring.

Both of them had aged relatively well given the circumstances, but it was obvious time had taken a much quicker toll on his husband than himself. The wrinkles that formed at the corners of those brown eyes when Kaidan laughed seemed deeper, more pronounced than his own. There was a disproportionate amount of salt to pepper in his hair, and he was definitely leaner and less toned than he used to be. What the photo thankfully didn't capture was the perpetual exhaustion John remembered him suffering from.

That was actually one of many photos being shuffled around, placed in obscure locations they shouldn't be. John would set them back where they belonged, but within a few days he would find them moved again. Sometimes he intentionally placed the photos incorrectly, knowing he would soon find them in their rightful places through no help of his own. It was a game they'd been playing for years.

The hauntings-or visits as he liked to call them-had been happening for as long as he could remember. He had initially believed them to only be coincidence-cruel tricks of a grieving mind-although it was clear they were anything but as time wore on. Anyone else likely would've been spooked into finding religion, but he found a great deal of solace from his invisible visitor. He slept better, confident that his husband was in the house watching over him. He only wished he could see him just once, even if only as a hazy glimpse.

Their friends swore he was completely out of his mind when he mentioned the visits. There were gentle suggestions that maybe it was time he move on and find someone else, but he thought them equally crazy to suggest such a thing. The loneliness was catching up to him, though, and he was growing tired of living when it didn't feel like there was anything left to live for. How cruel fate was that he still had plenty of good years left ahead of him-years he no longer wanted.

John huffed a sigh and leaned back in the recliner, propping his feet up on the footrest as it unfolded. A smile curled across his lips as he took one last look at the photo in his hand and closed his eyes. All this reminiscing was exhausting. As he fell toward the blissful darkness of sleep, his last conscious thought was hoping Kaidan would be waiting for him in the dream world like he always was.


	2. Chapter 2

"We're here!" Liara chirped, pushing open the front door. She waited a few moments but received no reply. "John?" she tried again. Still nothing. She frowned and glanced over her shoulder at her husband. "Do you think he forgot?"

James shrugged. "His memory's been slipping, but I doubt he'd forget about today." He squeezed her shoulder. "Knowin' him, he's probably still in bed."

Liara nodded. "Would you please check upstairs while I go get some coffee started?"

"Of course," he smiled, giving her a peck on the cheek as he walked past. He trotted up the short flight of stairs and disappeared around the corner.

Liara stared after him for a moment before heading toward the kitchen at the back of the house. James wasn't getting any younger either, something she was keenly aware of every time she caught her reflection in a mirror or window. Everyone around her was either aging or gone, while here she was, just as fresh-faced and youthful as she'd been the day she'd first set foot on the Normandy. Fifty years, give or take, was little more than a moment in time to an asari.

She had known it would be hard to watch her dearest friends fade away long before she did, but actually experiencing it was more devastating than she had ever imagined. Reminding herself to savor every moment she had with them was little consolation when another inevitably disappeared from her life forever. What would she do when they were all gone and that chapter of her life was closed?

Liara walked down the entryway and turned into the narrow kitchen, making a beeline for the small cabinet above the sink. Pushing up onto her toes, she opened the door and pulled down a bag of coffee. Setting the bag aside on the counter, she turned to reach for the silverware drawer behind her, but a glimpse of color caught her eye and she paused. From that angle she could only see part of the recliner, but she recognized the arm resting there. "There you are!" she exclaimed, walking over to John. "Didn't you hear me calling you?" she asked, planting her hands on her hips. "And what are you doing in that chair-did you fall asleep in it again? You know how badly that hurts your back."

From over John's shoulder she noticed the photo resting in his lap. _Must've sat up most of the night thinking about him again_, she thought, resting a hand on his arm as she reached for the image. Her heart stopped mid-reach.

"Oh, Goddess," she breathed. "James!"

She yanked her hand away and stepped back. Calling once more for James, the words never came, catching in her throat while she choked back a sob.

"What's wrong?" James asked from behind her. He sounded winded, having probably come running from upstairs. Between the pounding in her ears and her own miserable wails she hadn't even heard him take a single step.

This was all just a terrible nightmare, right? Despite the permanent limp and the occasional implant that needed tweaking, John had never been frail and he certainly hadn't been sickly or ill. He had sounded a bit tired and weary when she'd spoken with him the previous day, but she'd chalked that up to discussing today's plans.

James brushed past her to get a better view of what was distressing his usually placid wife. He inhaled sharply and glanced back at her. Their eyes meeting for only a moment of silent understanding before they were reaching for the comfort of one another's arms. Liara clutched at his shirt and buried her face in the crook of his neck, muffling the sobs she'd finally lost control of.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he soothed, rubbing her back. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," she cried.

He tightened the embrace. "You know how lonely he was even if he wouldn't admit it."

She pulled away and looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "He had us!" she argued.

"That's not the same." James kissed her forehead and pulled her back to his chest. "Call me crazy, too, but I always believed him when he said Kaidan was a ghost. And I'm gonna believe they're somewhere together now, just like we'll be someday."

She sniffled and nodded, knowing James was right. A decade was far too long to be separated from the one you loved. For John's sake-and her own piece of mind-she wanted to believe that death wasn't the end. Maybe there was something more, something so utterly incredible that the living mind couldn't possibly comprehend it. And because of that, maybe they weren't meant to know. Otherwise every moment of life would be tarnished, those once gleaming moments of triumph instead dulled by the knowledge that there was something better.

So until that final hour, they would have to live in the best ways they knew possible. They would laugh loudly, love deeply, and fight for every breath.

Her lips managed to twitch into the tiniest crescent of a smile. John had taught her that.


	3. Chapter 3

With sunlight splashing across his face, John scrunched his closed eyes even tighter, draping an arm over them for good measure. _Had it always been this bright in the morning?_ A balmy breeze swept across his bare skin, rich with notes of dewy grass and herbs. And just a hint of citrus. He wrinkled his nose and smiled.

The mattress shifted beside him, and moments later he heard the blinds clink shut. A gust of air whistled through the cracked window, fluttering the metal blinds like wind chimes. The mattress dipped and squeaked again, and John quickly found himself wrapped up in strong arms he knew all too well.

"Sorry about that, love," Kaidan murmured, pressing a kiss behind John's ear. That husky, sleep-roughened voice of his was music to John's ears. "So what do you think?"

"I think I'm in heaven," John laughed. He couldn't resist a terrible pun.

Kaidan snorted behind him. "First day of the rest of your afterlife," he added, tickling John's side.

John squirmed and laughed in his arms. When he finally caught his breath, a comfortable silence fell between them. He turned over to see his husband smiling warmly back at him. The chronic pain that had masked his features for so many years was gone now, the difference striking. He looked younger, but John couldn't quite determine what age he looked like; he'd never actually looked quite like that. He was frozen in time, an idealized blend of youthful energy and distinguishing features only a matured man could have. Even the scarring was gone.

Glancing down John noticed his own skin was an equally clean slate. He traced an imaginary line down his side, remembering the gash he'd received when he'd been blindsided by a charging Brute all those years ago. The slight paunch from years of letting himself go was thankfully nowhere to be seen, replaced with the softly defined lines of middle age. He was suddenly mortified by the realization that their friends-Kaidan-had seen him like that.

As if reading his mind, Kaidan lifted John's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his wrist. "Stop it," he purred, effectively banishing any further thoughts of self-loathing from John's mind. Kaidan always could read his expressions like an open book

John let his arm fall back at his side, his hand resting against his stomach. "So how did you know it was time?" he finally asked.

"It wasn't. You decided that for yourself."

John blinked in confusion. "Huh? How?" He couldn't wrap his head around this. There were a lot of things he did remember, but consciously deciding to die wasn't one of them. He hadn't even known that was an option.

Kaidan's hand traveled down his arm, finally settling at his hip. "All those times you dreamt of me? That was me visiting you in your dreams, when your mind was the most... open... to that kind of thing. Don't know what was different for you yesterday, but you followed me back like a lost puppy," he chuckled.

John's cheeks suddenly felt warm. "It's been ten years," he murmured, running his fingers through those dark curls he'd always loved playing with. "Got tired of missing you."

Kaidan's eyelids fluttered shut under the touch. "So why didn't you find someone else?"

"Who could possibly replace you?" The two of them were pieces cut from the same cloth, sharing a bond that was impossible to replicate with anyone else. Trying to patch that hole with a mismatched swatch never would've felt right nor would he have been satisfied with it. "Besides, who would've wanted some old, broken-down war horse like me?" he laughed. "Was about time someone put me out of my misery-just didn't think I'd be the one to do it."

"I would have." Kaidan pressed his fingers lightly into John's hip, pulling him close. Their bodies still remembered one another, fitting together just as perfectly as they always had.

A lazy smiled tugged at the corners of John's lips. "And you wonder why I never wanted anyone else," he said, taking Kaidan's face in his hands and kissing the other man soundly. He ducked his head under his husband's chin, breathing out a sigh of contentment. Yeah, he could get used to this.

He had nowhere to go and forever to get there, but that was just fine by him-he was exactly where he always wanted to be.


End file.
